Two Can Play
by Craft Rose
Summary: Malfoy sets off on a quest to seduce the Gryffindor know-it-all herself, Hermione Granger, at the request of an unlikely classmate.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Re-upload! Wrote this ages ago. **

"Three," interjected the fair-haired wizard, causing the attention in the classroom to shift. "Our precious Head Girl is incorrect. The answer is three."

A satisfied smirk tugged at the ends of Draco's lips. He had done it again. He had succeeded in wiping that supercilious grin off Granger's unsightly face. So what if she revised twice as much as anyone in their year? It was no reflection of her intelligence, just her overwhelming strive for perfection. In any case, he had news for her. She was far from perfect, what with that hair and those teeth. She may as well have been a living, breathing Moaning Myrtle. Always bitching about something or other.

"Incorrect?" repeated Granger, horror-struck. There was commotion in the classroom. At last. The Muggle-born know-it-all of the century had answered falsely in_Muggle Studies _of all subjects. It was brilliant.

Professor Burbage, kind as she was, offered the Head Girl a consolatory smile. "I'm afraid so, Miss Granger. The first edition of _Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles _had indeed been banned in _three_ major areas of Great Britain - not four."

Granger flipped through the pages of her textbook like a madwoman, eyes laced with disbelief. Leave it to Moaning Mudblood to question a professor like that. Draco could hardly understand the general consensus surrounding her. She wasn't the kind-hearted, inclusive young woman everyone thought her out to be. Not at all. In his experience she was just as cutthroat as the rest of them. Her and her friends lived in their own universe, failing to take notice of anything or anybody that wasn't directly involved in their melodrama.

Granger was the worst. She was presumptuous, inconsiderate of any opinions that weren't her own, and very, very domineering.

"This can't be." Granger set down her textbook, exasperated. "I...I'm wrong."

"That you are," added Draco. "I say we revoke her Head Girl status."

"You're just jealous they gave Head Boy to Zabini instead of you," retorted the bushy-haired Gryffindor.

Draco rolled his eyes. If he wanted to be Head Boy, he would be Head Boy. Being prefect in his fifth and sixth year had been an eye-opening experience, during which he discovered one very crucial piece of information. With power and responsibility comes no social life, and he would be damned if he spent his last year docking points off Hufflepuff and telling off first years. Besides, the perks of having a close friend as Head Boy were endless.

"Speaking of, he told me about your proposal. What's it called?" Draco pretended to think, placing a finger on his chin. "Ah - right. Legitimizing _spew _as an official extracurricular organization."

Granger narrowed her eyes. "First of all, it's not _spew_," she countered, over exaggerating the pronunciation. "It's SPEW, which stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare and I'll have you know it's a fair cause for people who aren't as bigoted as you seem to be. Second of all, Zabini should be sharing no such information with someone who is neither a prefect nor faculty member. I shall report his misdemeanor at once."

Dead silence.

Draco yawned. "The only misdemeanor is that Hippogriff nest resting atop your fat head."

A dozen or so students broke out in laughter, causing Granger to turn a deep shade of scarlet. She may have been overbearing and arrogant when it came to studies, but she was still a girl, and girls were nothing if not sensitive about their appearance. Draco loved every minute of it. Too much time had passed since he last humiliated the girl. They were already six months into the seventh year and he'd only made her cry twice. Unacceptable. He made a mental note to kick his insults into overdrive. The last thing he wanted was for her to get comfortable.

* * *

><p>"Did she cry?" asked Blaise, indifferent.<p>

The Great Hall was abuzz with all the chaos surrounding the Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch Match that would commence the following morning. Draco and the rest of the team had been practicing for months on end, using their Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff matches as preparation for the real thing. Because, really, it was a battle between the two power houses that people _truly _desired.

He took a large serving of mashed potatoes. "Don't know," answered the fair-haired wizard, having paid little attention to Granger after their back-and-forth earlier in the day. "But she _will _cry soon enough."

"Honestly, I don't know why you bother with that Mudblood," rung in Pansy, touching up her makeup at the Slytherin table. "She's just common riff raff. It was fine when we were younger, but people are starting to think you might fancy her."

This much was expected. It was the typical playground gossip. Boy teases girl. Boy fancies girl. That, however, was as far from the truth as humanly possible. He would sooner engage in a sultry love affair with Neville Longbottom than with the likes of Hermione Granger. She was…decent looking…ish…but blood status combined with her inherent need to be the best at everything was more than he could ever tolerate.

Besides, it was incredibly easy to get under her skin. She might have been sharp-tongued and respectable on the battlefield, but the girl had zero self-confidence, which made for an excellent pastime. He would never relinquish the right to torment her. She made it far too enjoyable to surrender.

"Oh!" blurted Pansy, startling their small group of people. "I forgot to tell you. Guess what I heard in the girls loo today!"

Draco remained silent, having no interest in her petty gossip. She was nice to look at, Pureblood, and willing to do _anything_ he asked – or rather, demanded – but she was still a girl and he had yet to meet one that knew when to shut up.

"What?" Blaise finally asked, equally disinterested but polite enough to respond.

Their indifference seemed to fly right over Pansy's head because she leaned in closer to the boys and whispered. "Granger and Weasel broke it off last night."

Hmm. That _was _interesting. Draco was wondering when Potter's minions would split. Still, it wasn't enough to garner a response.

"Well – _he _broke it off with _her_. Nobody really knows what happened but rumours are flying around that she cheated on him with that Viktor Krum bloke. The famous Seeker."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "You care too much."

Pansy ignored him and turned to Draco. "Just a little something you can use the next time you tease her."

This was true. His insults were getting far too repetitive as of late. He needed some new material, and Granger parting with the _love of her life _seemed to fit the bill. Perhaps Pansy wasn't so useless after all. The young man finished piling a mountain of mashed potatoes on his plate and set it aside.

"That looks suspicious," said Blaise, flashing his friend a knowing look. "There are professors everywhere."

"I know," smirked the fair-haired wizard. "Guess you'll just have to turn a blind eye on this one."

It took a few moments before Pansy caught on. "You're already under probation!"

"I know."

Draco ignored his friends as they gave each other knowing looks. They really should have had more faith in him. He had a plan. He _always_ had a plan. The young man sat idly by, waiting for several moments until he spotted his target at the door. She was alone, carrying a stack of books that towered over a foot above her head, and she was heading straight for the Gryffindor Table.

He shifted his gaze elsewhere and summoned a sixth year Ravenclaw who had already been looking his direction. The younger boy hurriedly shot up from his seat and made his way over, stopping in front of their spot at the Slytherin Table.

Draco smiled in an all but kind way. "Wait for my cue, Chris."

Chris nodded and took hold of the plate, pale as a ghost, rushing off to the other side of the Great Hall. Blaise and Pansy exchanged another look, whilst Draco remained beside himself with delight.

* * *

><p>Hermione strolled into the Great Hall with as many books as Madam Pince would allow her to sign out from the Hogwarts library. She had six essays due by the end of the week, only one of which was even close to completion. It was unlike her to fall behind, or rather, fall to everyone else's pace, but there was a lot on her mind.<p>

The Head Girl found her spot beside Ginny and sighed.

"Long day?" asked the redhead.

Hermione buried her face in her hands. "Agonizing," she mumbled.

"I heard about what happened in Muggle Studies," offered Ginny, rubbing her friend on the shoulder. "Malfoy's a right git. I'll get him back on the Quidditch Pitch tomorrow. Don't you worry."

Ah. She hadn't even thought about that. The source of Hermione's distress wasn't Malfoy – not entirely. Though it made sense for Ginny to skip past the actual problem, given the fact that it was her own brother. It had only been a day since the breakup, less than, and Hermione was already fed up with all the gossip and whispers behind her back. Nobody knew the truth, and yet, they felt it their right to stick their noses in her personal matters. To be perfectly honest, she wouldn't have cared had they managed to get their facts straight. But, alas, gossip didn't have to be accurate in order for it to matter.

She sighed, thoughts drifting to the incident in Muggle Studies. "I hope he takes a Bludger to the gut," she frowned, pouring herself a glass of Pumpkin Juice.

"I can arrange that."

Hermione eyed her best friend. "And get kicked off the Gryffindor Quidditch Team?"

"That's only if I'm caught," winked Ginny.

This made the Head Girl smile. She missed their banter. Schoolwork and Head Girl duties had kept her ridiculously busy. It felt nice to just sit back and chat about trivial matters.

Ginny sighed. "I hope we do win, for Harry's sake. I've never seen him work so hard for anything, besides his life or whatever."

It was true. Harry had been drilling the team on new strategies and stretching their practices for ages, and it was all down to this match. It was their final match against Slytherin and _his _final chance to drag Malfoy's arse around the Quidditch Pitch.

"I'm sure he'll catch the Snitch in no time," Hermione said truthfully, having full faith in her spectacled best friend. "Speaking of Harry, how are you two?"

It was brief, but Ginny blushed. "We're…good," she said quietly. "_Really _good."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "_Really_, really good?"

Her best friend uncharacteristically giggled. "Yes."

"_When_?" asked the Head Girl, suddenly intrigued.

"Last week…in the library…"

Hermione gasped. "In my domain, no less! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"You've been so busy lately! I – I didn't think you would care," explained Ginny, shrinking in her seat as a few people turned in their direction.

It was true. Hermione had neglected her friends on more than one occasion. Her eyes were drenched with apology until the obvious question surfaced. "How was it?"

Ginny's blushed deepened. "Brilliant. A little uncomfortable…but brilliant." A small smile tugged at the ends of her lips.

"I'm surprised you weren't caught," said Hermione, dumb struck. "The library has been packed this month because of mid-terms."

"Well…we _were _in the Restricted Section."

The Head Girl gaped. "_You had sex in the Restricted Section_?"

Ginny made motion for her to keep it down. "Tell the whole world, why don't you?"

"Sorry," Hermione said, flinching. "But at least that would mean they'd stop talking about me for once."

Ginny gave her a knowing look. "I've been meaning to ask you about that…"

"You don't have to. I know it's an uncomfortable situation since he's your brother and all."

"Nonsense. I know him better than anyone. If you need someone to talk to…I'm your girl."

Hermione gave her a look of thanks. "It's been so stressful," she said. "I know it's largely my fault but…but he didn't have to react in such a way, you know? I thought we were closer than that."

"He's a boy and boys are insecure creatures," Ginny said matter-of-factly. "Give him some time and he'll get over it. Harry did."

"Harry is sensible. Ron is…"

"Ron," finished the redhead. "But he still loves you and because of that, he'll learn to look past this. Just be patient and it'll pass. I promise."

Hermione knew Ginny was right, but part of her felt as though it didn't matter. The way he had reacted to her news proved something to her. He wasn't ready. He wasn't even close to being ready. Yes, he loved her and cared for her, but Ron would always let his little insecurities get in the way of having a proper relationship. _That_was why they had broken up; _that _was why he had taken everything the wrong way; and _that _was why he had practically turned the entire school against her.

"Something tells me that's not all that's on your mind," Ginny clued in.

"It's just that…I want to be with him…but…"

"This entire situation is making you second guess everything."

Hermione rapidly nodded. "Yes. Exactly."

"Well, maybe it's time to consider other prospects," suggested the redhead. "You've been pining for each other since fourth year. It's been a long time, don't you think?"

All true. Hermione had never considered dating anyone but Ron. Dating in general seemed a foreign concept. "I wouldn't know where to begin," she admitted. "I feel as though I've missed out on years of practice."

"If you like someone enough, it'll come naturally," Ginny explained. "And speaking of practice…I see some headed this way."

The Head Girl followed her best friend's line of vision and felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. A sixth year Ravenclaw by the name of Christopher Rooney was approaching the Gryffindor table – fast – and his baby blue eyes were firmly planted on her. She had seen him before. He was a prefect and to her knowledge, he was something of a hot commodity in Ginny's year. She had never considered dating a younger guy, but the idea of it suddenly sparked an unexpected amount of interest within her.

"Hey," he said, giving her a quick nod.

Hermione swallowed, catching Ginny's encouraging glances through her peripheral vision. "Hello."

"Can – Can we talk for a sec?" asked Christopher.

"Sure," she squeaked, already feeling stupid. It felt as though the entire world was watching her, which for all she knew they were. Hermione got up from the Gryffindor Table, catching her best friend's thumbs up as she followed Christopher to a more secluded part of the Great Hall.

"I heard you're single now," he said, nonchalant. "Can't say I'm disappointed."

She arched an eyebrow. "Erm…"

"Sorry," sighed the Ravenclaw, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm not very good at this sort of thing."

Hermione felt it coming on. "What sort of thing?"

"Telling a girl I like her," he said quietly, meeting eyes with her in a way that made her insides jumble together in one teenaged mess.

She didn't know what to say, forming an O with her lips.

"I've probably ruined my chances already, talking about this a _day _after your breakup with Weasley."

Hermione gave him a comforting look. "It's all right," she said honestly. "I'd say your chances are looking quite promising."

He glanced at her, something unreadable in his expression. "I…I…Erm…"

She waited for him to continue, expecting something along the lines of "_I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me to Hogsmeade this weekend_" or perhaps "_I would like it if we patrolled the corridors together from now on_" but what escaped Christopher's trembling lips was something she would never have anticipated.

"I'm sorry," he said, completely guilt-ridden.

"Sorry?" she repeated. "For what?"

He was looking away from her now. "You seem like a really nice girl, Hermione, and I hope you don't take this personally. I really do think you're something."

"What are you talking about?" she was going to ask, but the Head Girl found herself frozen with shock as Christopher slammed a full plate of mashed potatoes straight onto her face. After that it all happened in slow-motion. He whispered one final apology before storming off, and before Hermione could make sense of what had just happened, the entire Great Hall was alive with raucous laughter.

She had just enough time to scrape away the bits that were blocking her vision to spot a certain blond-haired demon zeroing in on her with a venomous look in his pale grey eyes. Somehow she knew he was involved, and in that moment Hermione made it her personal goal to get back at him. Whatever the cost.

"That insufferable Douchebag!" cried Ginny, shoving past the crowd that was forming around her best friend and whisking her away from all the chaos. "I'll kill him. I swear I will."

"It's not him you should kill," Hermione wanted to say, knowing her best friend was referring to Christopher, but she remained silent.

Revenge would come.

And it would taste sweeter than the entire inventory at Honeyduke's.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Second chappie!**

* * *

><p>"Am I evil?" asked Draco, folding his hands behind his head as he stretched on the leather loveseat in the Slytherin Common Room.<p>

Blaise took the armchair. "Yes."

Draco smiled, quite proud of himself. "Did you see the look on her face? Priceless!"

"You might want to watch your back," interjected Pansy, squeezing in at the foot of the armchair. "That Mudblood had murder in her eyes."

"Really? From my vantage point it looked like mashed potatoes," laughed the culprit.

His friends couldn't help but join in a little. Even Nott, who was otherwise removed from all the teasing and tormenting, cracked a smile.

"How did you get Chris to help you anyway?" inquired Pansy, too nosy for her own good. "Everyone knows he fancies her."

Draco shrugged. "We had a score to settle," he said, keeping it vague. "Turns out he doesn't fancy her as much as he thought."

"Neither does Weasley," added Blaise. "I caught him laughing just as much as the rest of us."

"She _did _cheat on him," Pansy said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"We don't know for sure," inserted Nott, though he probably didn't care either way.

Draco ignored them, already planning his next attack. "How long do you think it would take for Granger to remove Hippogriff dung from her mane?"

Blaise rolled his eyes, whilst Nott retreated to his Potions assignment. Pansy was the only one who seemed to care.

"Depends," she said. "Is it fresh?"

"Hmm," contemplated the young man. "That can be arranged…"

"You know I can't turn a blind eye to all your stunts," said Blaise. "The professors are already suspicious."

Draco brushed the warning aside. "Don't worry. It's all fun and games."

"For you," said Nott. "Pansy's right. Granger is out for blood."

He grimaced. "You lot are _really _killing my mood."

"Maybe it's time to grow up," suggested Blaise. "It's a little beneath you to pull such pranks, as a seventh year and all."

Draco knew his friend had a point, but teasing Granger gave him an almost euphoric feeling. It was like getting high without doing drugs. But the fact that he was already on probation _did _stir up some concern. Perhaps toning it down wouldn't be such a bad idea. At least for a little while.

"What's that?" asked Pansy, pointing to the fireplace.

All three boys shifted their attention to area in question and saw a jumpy owl that looked like a rat with wings swoop in and crash into the nearest sofa. Given that the Slytherin Common Room was located in the dungeons, there were no windows, which meant owl post arrived through the fireplace. Nevertheless, Draco had seen that owl before. It was Weasel's owl. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Let's have a look, shall we?" Pansy gingerly got up from her spot and retrieved a folded piece of parchment from the owl's clutches, giving it a good shoo and waiting until the rat-like bird crashed its way back up the fireplace. She gave one look at the parchment before glancing at Draco. "It's for you."

Somehow he had suspected as much. The young man held out his wand in one hand and the letter in the other, performing some spells to ensure it wasn't cursed or hexed. After several moments of this, Draco had no choice. He cautiously unfolded the parchment and read, knowing all eyes were on him.

_Restricted Section. Midnight._

_RW_

Quite curious indeed. Draco pocketed the note.

"What is it?" asked Pansy, peering over his shoulder.

"Nothing," he said, knowing better than to tell the school's biggest gossip. "Just a warning from McGonagall to keep myself in line."

"Odd that she should use Weasley's owl to deliver the message," Nott said knowingly, too clever for his own good. Blaise joined him in that assessment.

Draco, however, was left in complete silence, wondering what Weasel could possibly want from him in the Restricted Section…at midnight. It seemed like some sort of ruse, but an interesting one at that.

* * *

><p>Hermione poked her head into the Gryffindor Common Room, making sure it was relatively empty before going inside. The last thing she wanted was an audience. Merlin knew the girl had received enough attention to last the rest of the year. She quietly made her way to the rug in front of the fireplace and gave her wand a swift flick, immersing the room in a warm glow.<p>

She held her hands to the fire and sighed, still cold from her bath.

"Hey."

Her body turned rigid as she heard the voice, recognizing it immediately. It was too late to turn back. He'd already seen her. The young woman turned around and met eyes with her best friend, Harry Potter. He sat down, placing an arm around her shoulder without another word.

That was it. That was all she needed. Hermione tried to hold back, and she had for most of the day, but as she buried her head in Harry's shoulder, the tears began to fall.

"He'll pay for it on the Quidditch Pitch," Harry assured her.

She knew he was right. There was no way Malfoy would survive the match, what with the stunt in pulled in Muggle Studies and then the mashed potatoes. He was a dead man.

"I just want this year to be over," she said softly.

"I know what you mean," he agreed. "It's been tough for me as well, but talking helps."

"I'm sorry I haven't been there for you lately," Hermione apologized. "I've just been so busy. It's really doing my head in."

"No worries," smiled Harry. "Ginny has been great. We never really talked about much before, but lately it's all we do."

Hermione stifled a giggle. "Apparently it's not _all _you do."

Although she couldn't see his face, she was sure Harry's cheeks were tomato red by that point. "She told you, did she?"

"Don't be cross with her. We're girls. We tell each other everything."

"I'm not angry," he said quickly. "I just – I've been wondering…Did…Did she…Erm…"

"You've got nothing to worry about," Hermione interjected, sensing his train of thought. "I'm sure there's more to come, so to speak."

"Hermione!" he laughed.

She laughed back. "No pun intended!"

They stayed like this, chuckling together, for a few extra minutes before the inevitable happened.

"Have you spoken to Ron lately?" asked Hermione, curious about her ex-boyfriend's well-being despite his attitude towards her.

Harry turned stiff for a moment. "Here and there."

"And…?"

"He…He seems…all right."

"Just all right?"

The Chosen One sighed, giving up on the act. "Fine. I'll tell you the truth," he said. "I've never seen Ron so angry and hurt in my life. He won't speak a word to anyone, anyone that matters anyway, and today I caught him chatting up some Slytherin girl. It's madness. I'm telling you."

She had been worried something like this would happen. "He's just acting out. He'll get over it soon enough."

"I hope," Harry said, scrunching his mouth to the side in thought. "Not only for his sake, but for yours. Whatever happened between you two…it's no reason for him to behave this way."

Hermione admired her best friend's decency. He really was quite sensible for a teenage boy. "Just be there for him when he needs you, because he will."

Harry nodded. "I just hope it's before he reaches rock bottom." The young man sighed once again. "Or before the Quidditch match tomorrow…either would work…"

She smiled. "You'll do fine. Gryffindor will win and we'll all celebrate until sunrise. It'll be just like old times."

The look of pride on Harry's face was enough to tell her he was in a better mood, but there was still some concern laced within his emerald eyes. "Speaking of Ron, have you seen him around? We were supposed to meet in the dormitory an hour ago to discuss some strategy for tomorrow, but he didn't show up."

"Hmm," thought the Head Girl, trying to trace her steps. "No. I don't think I've seen him since – since dinner." She tried to block out the memory, having scrubbed her face clean for thirty minutes straight in the Prefects bathroom. "Have you asked Ginny, or perhaps Neville?"

Harry nodded. "Neither of them have seen him."

"Well, I'm sure he's fine," she said truthfully. "Probably just moping about somewhere in the castle. You know how he gets."

"Yeah, he does love to sulk." Harry scratched the back of his head. "I guess I'll head to bed," he yawned. "May I escort you to your dormitory?"

Hermione smiled, linking their arms. "You may."

* * *

><p>The corridors were dead silent. It was almost midnight, and most of the prefects had finished their rounds for the night, which meant the coast was clear. Draco hurried up the moving staircase, narrowly missing a fall to his death at least three times, and onto the seventh floor. It was safe to say he was on edge.<p>

Nott and Pansy had been curious when he said he was leaving the dungeons so late into the night, but it was Blaise who proved to be the problem. Being Head Boy had really straightened him out. He gave Draco a list of reasons the administration would expel him should anyone find out he was roaming the corridors after hours, but the young man ignored his friend's warnings. He wasn't one to follow the rules. Never had been. Never would.

Nonetheless, he had to stay focused. Draco held his wand out as he reached the library, peering inside before taking his first step. It was deserted.

He continued past dozens and dozens of bookshelves until he reached no man's land. It was gated and locked shut, labelled the _Restricted Section _for all to see and be warned. In his opinion it was quite a useless effort seeing as a first year had the magical capability of breaking in, but he supposed it was all in principle. Draco gave his wand a wave, muttering _Alohomora _under his breath and waiting until the lock clicked open before pressing on.

It was significantly colder than the rest of the library, and some of the books looked like they hadn't been touched in hundreds, maybe thousands, of years. Hogwarts_was _that old.

He nearly reached for a first edition copy of a Dark Arts book he recognized from his father's collection before there was a sound a few shelves down. Draco's gaze shot forward and he whipped his wand out, taking one careful step after the other until he saw a tuft of ginger hair.

Weasley turned around, sizing him up with a determined look on his face.

"You came," he said, sounding neither pleased nor surprised.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What's this about?"

"I'll tell you in due time," Weasley assured him. "First, put your wand down. This isn't that sort of meeting."

"I think I'll be the judge of that."

"Fine," said the blood traitor, holding his hands up in surrender. "If you're that scared, keep it out."

Bastard. Draco instantly pocketed his wand, feeling his blood boil. "What do you want?"

For a moment Weasley said nothing, as though he himself was contemplating the reason behind this strange meeting, but it didn't last long. "I called you hear to ask for a favour."

"A favour?" repeated Draco, sounding quite amused. "If it's a spell that will change that hair colour – sorry, mate – I don't think there's a cure for that kind of curse."

Weasley scowled. "Yeah? I bet you can give me a spell on how to transform into a ferret."

All right. So he meant business. "Spit it out then," said Draco.

"I…I'm sure you heard about what happened between me and Hermione."

"She cheated on you."

Weasley glanced away. "Something like that."

"So? How does that involve me?"

"Well," the redheaded reject took a few deep breaths. "I'd like to get even with her."

Interesting. Very interesting. Draco released the strain in his features. "And you're asking me for advice on how to do so?"

"Not quite."

"What is it then?" asked the Slytherin, growing tired of the vague responses. "I don't have all night."

Weasley looked lost for words. "Ginny told me…you're…well…something of a…ladies man."

If they weren't breaking a dozen school rules at that very moment, Draco would have burst out laughing. The look on Weasley's face alone was enough to keep him chuckling until the end of term. "She did, did she?"

"None of that," spat Weasel. "She's my baby sister."

"Go on then. With me being a ladies man and all…you're really using up my time."

He ignored Draco's jab, looking as though he would get sick all over the floors in a matter of seconds. Whatever he wanted, it wasn't easy for him to say, which only intrigued the Slytherin further.

Weasley cleared his throat. "Basically, you and I have never really had anything in common," he said. "Until today."

"And what would that be?"

"We want Hermione Granger to suffer."

Draco had the stinking suspicion their conversation would involve Granger in some way or another. Everything was about her these days. Even so, it surprised him to think how fast her supposed lover had turned on her. Whatever she had done, it really did a number on Weasel.

The blood traitor continued. "And with you being…well…you…it only made sense for me to ask for your help."

"What exactly are you proposing?"

"I want you to seduce her," he said bluntly.

This time Draco couldn't hold back. He fell to the floor, laughing hysterically for what seemed like ages until his abdomen grew too sore to continue. Blaise and Pansy would sure get a kick out of this. He couldn't wait to go back to the dungeons and tell them all about his little meeting.

"You're mental," he smirked, turning to leave.

"Wait!" said Weasel, racing in front him and blocking the exit. "There – There's something in it for you."

"What could you possibly have to offer that I don't already have?"

The redhead thought for a moment. "I – I'm a prefect. If you do me this favour, I can write up a report that works in your favour, and you might be set free from your probation. In fact, I can guarantee it."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Not good enough. Now if you'll excuse me."

"Hold on! I – I have something else," he said, really testing Draco's patience. Weasley reached into his pockets and pulled out some sort of glorified lighter. "You can have this, along with any three favours you should ask of me."

The latter end of his offer seemed at least a little intriguing, but Draco had no idea what he was looking at. He took hold of the object and examined it. "What is it?"

"It's a Deluminator," he explained. "Dumbledore left it to me in his will."

Draco paused. Was Weasel really offering him all he had left of the great Albus Dumbledore? It was ludicrous to think. He couldn't begin to fathom the Gryffindor Keeper's logic. "What does it do?"

"It removes light sources and restores them," he said, sounding a little unimpressed himself.

"Fancy," said Draco, not bothering to hide the sarcasm.

"It can also transport you to…to where your most loved or treasured people reside."

Draco eyed his adversary curiously. "And you're giving it to me?"

"Only if you seduce Hermione."

He rolled his eyes yet again. "Even if I were to _seduce _Granger, this Deluminator thing still isn't enough. I'd be risking both my reputation and dignity so you, a person who means nothing to me, can settle some petty score."

"That's where the other three favours come into play," explained Weasley. "I'll do pretty much anything you ask, as long as it's legal and won't get me expelled from school."

It still didn't seem like enough. Draco had impeccable skill with the ladies, yes, but seducing the Gryffindor know-it-all herself would be no easy feat. She hated him just as much as he hated her. That in itself would be an enormous roadblock. Plus, he didn't want to get Mudblood germs. Draco cringed just thinking about it.

"I don't know, Weasel. Seems like you're the only one benefiting from this arrangement."

"What if I just so happen to let a few Slytherin Quaffles through the hoops tomorrow? It can be the first of the three favours."

Draco shot him a glance. "I beg your pardon?"

Weasel sighed. "I – I can…go against my team…"

"You _really _want her to suffer, don't you?"

He half-nodded. "Not so much suffer…just…I want someone to break her heart."

_The way she broke his_, Draco thought to himself. It was starting to sound interesting, and he found himself contemplating whether or not he should get involved. Yes, he had promised himself he would tone it down, but perhaps he would stop completely after this. One last hoorah, so to speak.

"I can call in the other two favours at any time?"

"Any."

Draco thought for a moment before pocketing the Deluminator. "Fine," he said, knowing he would probably regret this in the morning. "But you still have to write that report."

"I'll do it."

"And you can't tell _anyone _about this," he said sternly. "Not even Potter."

"I won't. My neck is on the line just as much as yours."

He supposed Weasley had a point. "All right. I'm still not completely sure, but I'm leaning towards a yes." Draco narrowed his eyes, feeling the wheels begin to turn. "I'll give you my final answer tomorrow. Until then, this meeting never happened."

"Of course," agreed the blood traitor. "See on you the Pitch."

"See you on the Pitch." Draco waited until Weasley had left the library entirely before relaxing.

What a strange turn of events.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I don't like begging for reviews. But srsly, it would be aw-sum for you to review. lol. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Numero tres!**

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><p>Hermione raced through the grounds, having overslept for the first time in three years. It was completely unlike her, but she had no time to scorn herself. The Quidditch match had begun and all her friends were out on the Pitch, probably wondering where she was. After twenty straight minutes of sprinting to the Pitch, the Head Girl made it, dashing up the Gryffindor stands.<p>

She spotted Neville somewhere in the front and squeezed past a group of overeager second years before reaching his side.

"_Where have you been_?" he asked, trying to speak over all the cheers.

She had a pained look on her face. "_I overslept. What's the score_?"

"_Slytherin are winning by twenty points_."

Hermione felt a large lump form in her throat. She knew her friends – namely Ron, being Keeper and all – were probably devastated. They hadn't practiced so much for nothing.

Nevertheless, the Snitch had yet to be caught, which meant Gryffindor stood more than a fighting chance. She jumped up and down, cheering with the others and feeling the adrenaline of it all keep her warm.

Dennis Creevey was commentating the game. "_Ginny Weasley takes the Quaffle, races past Davis and straight for the – OH_!"

Hermione gasped as her best friend received a lethal hit from one of the Slytherin Chasers, nearly falling off her broom.

"_Davis grabs hold of the Quaffle, dodging one Bludger, and then another! It looks like Slytherin really brought their A-game!_"

There was a lot of uproar in the Gryffindor and Slytherin stands. Everyone was bracing themselves as Davis, a highly skilled Slytherin Chaser, made her way to the Gryffindor Keeper.

Both Hermione and Neville held their breath as Davis took a shot.

"_Another goal for Slytherin_!" cried Dennis, not half as loud as he would have had it been Gryffindor.

There was a collective groan from the crimson stands, and boisterous cheers from their opponents. A few of the students began trash talking from across the Pitch until it was all cut short by Dennis' high-pitched voice.

"_What's that_?" he asked, pointing out into the distance. "_It looks like Harry Potter has located the Snitch_!"

Everyone's eyes were glued to the Gryffindor Seeker as he twisted and twirled around the Quidditch Pitch, following the tiny, golden ball of hope as it soared overhead.

Hermione felt excitement in her stomach. _Yes_, she thought, clapping her hands together and chanting with the crowd. _We can win_! _The game is ours_!

"Go Harry!" she cried out, catching his sideways glance as he raced past the Gryffindor stands. "Go Harry! Let's go! Catch that Sn –"

"Hermione! Look out!"

The Head Girl glanced to Neville, who pointed straight ahead of them with eyes the size of galleons. She shifted her attention, trying to find out what all the commotion was about. Her body went into shock when she saw it. A Bludger like no other was headed in her direction, tearing through the crisp Winter air with the ferocity of a thousand dragons.

She had no time to react.

It happened so fast after that.

* * *

><p>Draco tried to keep calm. Weasley had followed through with his end of the bargain. The game was almost theirs. All he had to do was catch the bloody Snitch. His gaze tore all around the Quidditch Pitch, searching for the golden ball and spotting nothing but his fellow players. He made sure to keep Potter within eyesight. He figured those ridiculous glasses acted as some sort of Snitch locating device. Admittedly, Potter was good – more than good.<p>

Nevertheless, all of Slytherin were relying on Draco. He circled the Pitch, feeling even more pressure as his team went up in the scoreboards.

"_Another goal for Slytherin_!" cried Creevey.

The Gryffindor stands were going mental. He loved it.

"_What's that_? _It looks like Potter has located the Snitch_!"

Draco felt his pulse quicken. He found the Gryffindor Seeker not too far away, and made a dive for it, staying on his tail as he chased victory. They flew over the Slytherin stands, hearing cheers and trash talk for the Seekers, respectively, and then over the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff stands. They received minimal response from those houses, but it didn't matter.

Draco tailed him all the way to the Gryffindor stands and just as he was about to reach for his opponent's broom (an illegal move, if caught) he heard something.

"Hermione! Look out!"

He peered over his shoulder to find Neville Longbottom warning his fellow Gryffindor of something close by. The Slytherin Seeker glanced around the Pitch and saw an angry Bludger, dealt by a Slytherin beater, racing for the crimson stands – straight for Hermione Granger.

_This is my chance_, he thought. _Weasley did his part. Now I have to do mine. _It took a split second of thinking before Draco whipped his broom in the opposite direction, back to the Gryffindor stands, and made a choice he knew he could never take back.

* * *

><p>"It would do Hogwarts some good to ban that barbaric sport!" voiced Madam Pomfrey, racing between bedsides. "One student after another – injured, maimed, you name it!"<p>

Hermione frowned, feeling quite all right save for some soreness here and there. "May I be excused?" she asked the Hogwarts nurse. "I feel fine."

Pomfrey gave her a stern look. "You will stay right there until I tell you otherwise."

The Head Girl sighed, lying back down on the bed.

Ginny was by her side, still in her Quidditch uniform. "That was some hit," she said. "You were out for at least ten minutes. I can't believe you missed Harry catch the Snitch, too! It was brilliant."

"I'm sure it was," Hermione said, trying to sound supportive.

"Oh, cheer up," encouraged the redhead. "We'll go to Hogsmeade tomorrow and you'll feel right as rain."

She hoped so. Granted, Hermione didn't feel as though she was in need of medical assistance, but her head was throbbing worse than ever. Just in time for mid-terms, too. She cringed at the thought of writing her exams in such a condition.

"Why do you think he did it?" asked Ginny, staring across the Hospital Wing.

Hermione did the same, spotting Draco Malfoy's unconscious body laying atop the bed. He had, for some ridiculous reason, taken the hit for her. The only reason she was hurt at all was because the Bludger knocked him off his broom and straight into the stands.

"It was probably a mistake," shrugged the Head Girl.

"I don't know…I saw it happen," said Ginny, gaze darting between her best friend and opponent. "He was on Harry's tail one moment, and then he just turned around and flew straight towards you. It was almost as if…as if…"

"As if he knew the school administration were looking for a reason to take him off probation, and taking a hit for somebody of a different house fits the bill?"

Ginny paused. "You think?"

"I know," Hermione said firmly. "There's no other explanation."

"If you're sure," shrugged her friend, getting up from the stool. "I think I'll go change out of my uniform," she said. "I'll be back in a bit."

"All right," the Head Girl said, feeling lonely already. Merlin knew how long Pomfrey planned to keep her cooped up in the Hospital Wing. "See you soon?"

"Definitely." Ginny gave her a quick hug before racing off.

Hermione sighed, climbing under the covers and deciding it was best to sleep it off. Madam Pomfrey would wake her up when it was time to go. Hopefully. Just as her eyes began to droop, she heard a set of unfamiliar footsteps, belonging to neither the school nurse nor Ginny.

The Head Girl glanced over her shoulder and saw Pansy Parkinson, along with Blaise Zabini, storm into the Hospital Wing and straight for Malfoy's bed.

"Honestly!" cried out the Slytherin girl. "It's like he was trying to…_save _her."

She then paced the area. Four steps, turn. Four steps, turn. Four steps, turn. All the while, mumbling things under her breath. Pouting. Arms folded. The whole nine.

"I'm sure he had his reasons," offered Blaise, finding logic within an illogical situation.

"Doubt it. Knowing that minger, she probably used the Imperius Curse on him, so Potter could catch the Snitch. That has to be it. Draco would never risk anything for a Mudblood."

The last word stung, but Hermione made sure to keep her composure. She closed her eyes, trying to fake being asleep. The last thing she wanted was a jealous Pansy Parkinson at her bedside.

"It cost us the match!" she cried, clearly trying to gain Blaise's support, but he was nothing if not indifferent to most things. "When is he going to wake up anyway?"

"Not soon, I would imagine. He took quite the hit. I wouldn't be surprised if Pomfrey kept him in here all night."

For some inexplicable reason, Hermione felt guilt, as though it had been her fault Malfoy was out cold. Even if it had been, he deserved it! All the teasing and tormenting. It was karma. That's all. Karma.

"Oh, Draco!" cried Pansy, drenched in melodrama as she rushed over to his side and held his hand in both of hers. "We are all so worried for you. Please wake up soon. There is _so much we need to discuss_." Her tone went from concerned to threatening, as the words poured out.

Hermione wondered whether Malfoy was also pretending to asleep. She wouldn't have blamed him. Even he, in all his arrogance, had to find Pansy Parkinson annoying. There was something about her shrill voice that made the Head Girl's mind turn numb. That in mind, she closed her eyes even tighter and tried to free her subconscious of recent events, but all she could visualize was the angry Bludger racing toward her and the greenish blur that followed.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading! **

**Cheers **

**xo. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Four!**

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><p>It wasn't all that bad. Save for some soreness around the ribs and a few cuts and bruises, he had escaped the incident healthy as a Hippogriff. The only part of him that felt damaged at all was his ego. The entire school was talking about what had happened during the Quidditch match. Draco Malfoy had saved a Muggle-born Gryffindor, and not just any. He almost wished he never would have done it, but there was an arrangement to which he had agreed, and the look on Granger's face every time they crossed paths in the corridor or during class made it well worth the gossip.<p>

She was doing what she did best.

"Will you stop looking at her?" urged Pansy, using a hushed voice as they hurried to finish their assignment before time ran out. Slughorn had the class brewing a batch of Beautification Potion.

Draco ignored his partner. Pansy had always been something of a control freak. They weren't in a relationship. Hell, the most they had ever done was dance a little during the Yule Ball but for some inane reason she was under the impression that she had a say in his private affairs.

"Alright class, time is up!" Slughorn announced from his desk. "Let us sample these masterpieces," he said gleefully, far too cheerful to be from Slytherin. "Starting with...Tracey and Daphne."

The two Slytherin girls cautiously stepped to the front of the class, holding their cauldron on either side and propping it onto the desk. With one reluctant look at Slughorn, Daphne - the braver of the pair - took a deep breath and tasted a spoonful of their Beautification Potion. The class watched intently as she shot up a couple inches and the features on her face began to contort. Her nose grew thinner, her eyes closer together, her forehead a little smaller and her lips plump.

There was a brief pause before Slughorn clapped his hands together. "Well done, girls! Well done!" He handed Daphne and vial of reversal potion and motioned for them to take a seat.

Draco noticed she was in no immediate hurry to take it. He didn't blame her.

A few more groups went. Everyone's potions went accordingly, save for Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas. The latter ended up growing a pair of scaly wings and spewing greenish sludge. Given that Draco was fairly adept in Potion Making, he knew where they had made an error. The boys stirred clockwise as opposed to counter-clockwise. Rookie mistake. Definitely not NEWT level Potion Making material. Snape would never have allowed them a spot in his class.

Slughorn cleaned off the remainder of green sludge with a small wave of his wand and gestured to Draco's table. "You two," he said, nodding his head to the front of the class. "Give it a go."

People whispered as he took the long way to the front of the class, passing by the back of Granger's desk and nudging her chair a little bit. Although he couldn't see her face, he was sure her cheeks were bright red. The young man smirked to himself before placing the cauldron front and centre.

"You do it," Pansy said cautiously.

Draco rolled his eyes. He knew what she feared. The girl didn't want any drastic changes to her appearance, because that would mean her looks were _oh-so_ _average. _Truthfully, Pansy was above average, but even that wouldn't get him out of taking the potion.

Without much thought, Draco downed a gulp of their concoction and waited for something to happen.

The entire class waited.

* * *

><p>Hermione could hardly believe it. Or could she? Several moments came and went with not even the slightest change. The bane of her existence remained tall, blonde, and silvery-eyed.<p>

Slughorn cleared his throat, approaching the cauldron and inspecting it. "Hmm," he said, holding a hand to his chin. "It appears just fine."

"What's the problem?" asked Seamus. "Why isn't he changing?"

"Because he's already gorgeous," Millicent Bulstrode said matter-of-factly. There were a few laughs following the revelation, but no objections.

Hermione kept her eyes planted firmly on the empty sheet of parchment in front of her, feeling her cheeks grow white-hot with embarrassment. About a minute passed by until Slughorn dismissed the pair back to their seats. She could feel Malfoy's eyes on her the entire time, and the weight of his attention kicked into overdrive as he brushed past her once more.

_Get it together_, she told herself.

* * *

><p>Ginny digested the information as though it were nothing. "Of course," she nodded. "He may be an insufferable twat but he's also the best looking boy in school."<p>

Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"Besides Harry!" added Ginny, suppressing her laughter. "Either way, it doesn't surprise me one bit."

She supposed the redhead was right. Malfoy was...decent...ish...from afar...but even thinking that felt like treason. "Have you seen Harry around? He has my Transfiguration textbook."

Ginny shook her head. "Haven't seen him all day. He's probably with Ron somewhere, talking him down from ruining your life."

This time Hermione laughed, bitterly. "Probably."

The girls bowed their heads into their homework and scratched away at their parchment for the next couple of hours. It was late into the day. The sun had already set and both of them opted out of dinner that evening. Ginny was on some sort of diet, a diet in which Hermione made a mental note of discussing, and the Head Girl herself simply wasn't hungry. She hadn't been able to eat, sleep or think properly since the Quidditch match, but it was nothing physical. She was just being her regular overly analytical self.

"I'm off," said Ginny, gathering her things from their spot in the library. "See you in the Common Room later?"

Hermione nodded, waiting until her friend's footsteps faded out until dropping her Quill and burying her face into her hands. She needed a break. She needed some time off from _life_.

"Hey," greeted a familiar voice.

Hermione glanced up and felt her stomach tie into knots. "Christopher," she acknowledged. "This is a...surprise."

The young man offered her a look of guilt. "I come in peace," he said, holding both his hands up. "No mashed potatoes this time."

She smiled lazily. "I heard they revoked your Prefect status."

Chris nodded, his features dropping slightly. "I deserved it."

"You did," agreed the Head Girl. "For letting Malfoy manipulate you like that."

"How did you know...?" the young man asked, genuinely surprised.

"Smashing a plate of mashed potatoes in my face?" Hermione asked rhetorically. "It has his filthy, bigoted stink all over it."

The former Prefect laughed. "I guess it does."

"Sit down," she motioned. "Let's talk."

Chris did as he was told, too amazed that she still allowed him in her presence to object.

"What does he have on you?" asked Hermione. "It has to be something fairly sizable given that you risked your badge."

Chris glanced down, looking paler than he did during the aforementioned incident in the Great Hall. "I guess you do have a right to know," he reasoned with himself, thinking aloud. "Promise you won't tell anyone?"

"You have my word," she said, with complete conviction.

The young man took a deep breath, mentally preparing. "Well...you know my family is Pureblood," explained Chris. "And we often see the Malfoys and other Pureblood families over break, during various parties and such." He paused for a moment. "There was this one party, Daphne Greengrass' seventeenth birthday. Both myself and Malfoy were in attendance that night."

Hermione listened attentively, feeling the strain in his voice. She almost wanted to ask him to stop, but part of her wouldn't allow it.

"You see...I...I brought a date that night," he furthered. "A secret date."

"A _secret_ date?" she repeated.

Chris nodded, looking ill. "I wasn't ready to reveal the relationship, so we decided to keep it between us for the time being."

"Of course. Go on."

"Anyway, we slipped away from the rest of the party about halfway through and went to a secluded area for some alone time," he said with eyes that explained it all. "Malfoy caught us."

Perhaps fooling around before marriage was frowned upon in Pureblood society. She wouldn't put it past that lot to be so backward-thinking. "He caught you messing about with your girlfriend," she gathered. "I still don't see that as any reason to give up being Prefect."

"That's where you're wrong," said Chris, finally looking at her. "I don't have a girlfriend," he said. "I have a...boyfriend."

And just like that Hermione wished she could have reversed time and assured Chris he had no obligation to tell her anything. She felt horrible. She had no business prying into his private affairs. "I...I don't know what to say." The Head Girl glanced down, ashamed.

"Neither did I," said Chris. "That's why I agreed to whatever terms Malfoy laid out."

"He'll pay for this," she said firmly. "Believe you me. He _will _pay."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Tell me what you think, bruh. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Holy moly. Is this chapter five?!**

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><p>The looks on all their faces after he'd taken the potion was nothing short of spectacular. Draco smiled to himself, undoing the buttons to his shirt and tossing it over his shoulder. He glanced into the mirror above the sink, observing the only changes made from his and Pansy's concoction.<p>

The marks left on his body from the Quidditch match had vanished. His torso looked as though it was carved from porcelain, riddled with muscles, both hard and lean. Although it felt good to be whole again, Draco knew the potion wouldn't last. He reached for the reversal potion in the pocket of his trousers and uncorked it, pressing the rim to his bottom lip and downing the liquid in one gulp.

In that exact moment, a sharp knock sounded from the door.

"Open the door!" shouted a voice he hadn't expected.

Draco arched an eyebrow, chucking the empty vial aside and slipping on his shirt, leaving it unbuttoned as he shot a stream of sparks at the door, swinging it wide open. There stood Hermione Granger.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, rather aloof. "Better yet, how did you get through the portrait hole? This is the Boys Prefect Bathroom."

"Same as you. Blaise told me the password," she answered pointedly, pushing past the door and slamming it shut. "We have matters to discuss."

He smirked, knowing this conversation would take place sooner or later. "Very well. What is it you would like to discuss?"

The young woman paused for a moment. Her eyes danced down his bare abdomen, where his shirt was left unbuttoned. There was a touch of colour to her cheeks before she shook her head and pointed at him with her index finger.

"You," she started. "You have a lot of nerve."

Draco contemplated what this sudden outburst could possibly entail. Perhaps she discovered the agreement. Perhaps Weasley couldn't keep his fat mouth shut for more than a few days. The possibilities were endless, but, alas, he had neither the time nor the energy to ponder over them. Stress lines at seventeen wouldn't do him any good.

Granger withdrew her wand. "I would gut you like a fish," she said through gritted teeth. "You foul, loathsome -"

" - Evil, little cockroach," he yawned. "Sing a different tune, beautiful."

"You think this is funny?" she asked. "Hmm? Do you?"

He was starting to think there was more to this than before. The Head Girl didn't look angry. She looked murderous. "I really have no idea what you are blabbering on about. If you would just clarify -"

" - You think you have the right to do whatever you want to whomever you please, because your family is rich and your blood is supposedly pure?"

Ah. So, it _was_ about the agreement. "Now, now. It wasn't my idea," he assured her, wondering to himself why he didn't just shut her up with a hex or two. "If you truly desire answers, I would suggest speaking to Weasel."

Granger narrowed her eyes. "What in Merlin's name does Ron have to do with any of this?" she asked. "He doesn't even know Christopher."

"Christopher?" repeated Draco, taken aback.

"Yes, Christopher." The young woman struggled to keep her temper at bay. "As in, the boy you're blackmailing."

Draco's eyes widened a moment. He had completely miscalculated the entire situation. "That's what this is about?"

Granger nodded harshly, stiffening her wand arm and approaching him slowly. "Give me one reason not to hex you into oblivion."

He truly didn't have an answer. Truthfully, Draco had nothing against Christopher's lifestyle. "I wasn't going to say anything."

"What?"

"About his boyfriend," answered Draco. "I had no intention of blackmailing him. He offered to do anything to keep his secret a secret, and I accepted."

Granger arched an eyebrow. "You expect me to believe it was his idea?"

"Did he say it wasn't?"

Her mouth twitched. "That has nothing to do with it."

"I think we're done here," said Draco, nodding to the door. "There's your exit."

"I'm not even close to being done," she countered. "You still used him, knowing he did it out of fear."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm Slytherin. It's what we do."

"As true as that may be, it doesn't change the fact that you deserve to go through the same humiliation you put others through," she said firmly. "Worse."

"Oh? According to whom?" asked the young man, sizing her up. "You?"

"Yes," she fired back.

"Saving your ungrateful arse from that Bludger was humiliating enough."

Granger's bottom lip twitched, and for a moment she looked it away. "Don't pull the heroic act. We all know you did it to snake your way out of probation."

"Is that so?"

She nodded. "Why else would a Slytherin like yourself have taken a hit for a Gryffindor like me, if not for selfish reasons?"

Again, Draco rolled his eyes. "You're nothing but a self-righteous bitch." From there, he held his hand in front of her face to stop her from interjecting. "All you Gryffindors do is complain about me and my House. It's always Slytherin-this or Malfoy-that," he mimicked, slowly buttoning his shirt from the bottom up. "And the one moment I do something worthwhile, it's not good enough. Do you know why that is?"

She remained silent, probably for the first time in her life.

"Because you love to hate me." Draco zeroed in on her, only then noticing how small she was in comparison to him. He was at least a foot taller than her. "Now, if you don't mind, I have somewhere to be."

* * *

><p>He was livid.<p>

What right did she have to storm into his life and make such blatantly false accusations? It was true, he had interrupted Christopher during Daphne's birthday party, but Draco wasn't half as evil as his reputation disclosed. He was honest in saying there wasn't one bone in his body that wished to see the former Ravenclaw prefect suffer for something that was quite literally out of his control. Draco wasn't homophobic. Draco believed in the sort of love that was free of societal constraints.

He felt for Christopher.

It was all supposed to be a joke, something for him to look back on and laugh about when all of this was over, when he passed through the doors to Hogwarts for the last time.

"Weasley," said the young man, sharp as a blade. "A word."

He was by the Great Lake, outside, staring the red-headed mongrel square in the eye.

Ron Weasley arched an eyebrow, having a look around the grounds to make sure they were unseen. Most students found asylum in the castle to escape the ghastly weather.

"Something wrong?" asked the Gryffindor.

Draco felt like laughing. "You could say that."

"What is it?" furthered Weasel. "Is she onto you?"

"No. Nothing like that." He ran a hand through his blond hair. "I want out."

"_What_?"

"I want out," repeated Draco, firm. "She – She's too much. I underestimated her overbearing personality."

"But it's barely been a few days. What did she do?"

"She's Hermione Granger," he said matter-of-factly. "She didn't have to do anything but be herself."

Weasley contemplated this for a moment before nodding. "Fair enough."

"I commend you for tolerating that girl as long as you did."

"Thank you. Finally someone recognizes the grief she put me through."

For a moment Draco thought to crack a smile, but he didn't. There was no way he would bond over anything with the likes of Potter's number one sidekick. "What happened between you two?"

Weasley arched his eyebrow again. "Er –"

" – I'm only asking for research purposes."

"I thought the agreement was off?"

"It is," Draco assured him. "But that doesn't mean I won't hold any of this against her. I have four days of teasing to catch up on."

"Right…" Weasel paused for a moment. "She didn't cheat on me," he said bluntly. "She did something much, much worse."

"What's worse than cheating?" Draco thought to ask. Instead he stayed silent and waited.

"I'm sure you remember she dated Krum for a short while," continued the ginger. "Well…she kept in touch with him and, without my knowledge, went to meet him in Bulgaria over the summer."

"But she didn't cheat?"

"No." Weasel took a deep breath. "She lost her virginity to him."

Draco screwed his face. "I'm confused. I thought you said she didn't cheat."

"She didn't," affirmed the redhead. "We weren't together at the time. She was single."

"So…what's the problem?"

"Did you not hear me?" asked Weasel. "She lost her virginity to him. She _slept _with him."

Draco waited for something else, another piece of information that would tie the story together, but nothing came. "Sounds to me like you're being a jealous twat."

"Watch it," warned the Gryffindor.

"Hold on a moment," Draco pointed. "You're not just jealous over the fact that she shagged someone else…you're jealous because she won't offer the same luxury to you."

Weasley's cheeks matched his hair. "If you tell anyone…"

Draco couldn't hold back any longer. He chuckled to himself, clapping a hand over his mouth. "Getting rejected by Queen Mudblood must hurt worse than any curse. Now I truly feel for you."

His company grimaced. "I knew I shouldn't have told you."

"No," he countered. "I'm glad you did, because for a moment there I was starting to think you were in the right for trying to get back at her the way you did." Draco straightened his posture and brushed the wrinkles from his clothes. "Turns out you're still the same sore loser as before. Second place burns, doesn't it?"

"You would know," shot Weasel. "You haven't won a match against Harry since…hmm…EVER."

"Potter is a worthy opponent," Draco said clearly. "He may be Gryffindor and he may be a four-eyed cunt, but he's good, and I don't mind losing to someone like that." The young man levelled up his competition. "But you, you're just pathetic…holding secret meetings with your enemy to make certain the girl you supposedly love gets humiliated."

"What do you care if she gets humiliated or not?" spat the ginger. "You hate her as much as I do."

"I don't think I do," Draco said casually. "So much for being a loyal Gryffindor. If there were a House made for jealous twats, I'm sure you'd have been sorted in – no questions asked."

Weasley made an attempt to reach for his wand but Draco was too quick.

"One spell and you're expelled from school," the redhead reminded him. "Did you hear me or should I repeat that?"

"I heard you," Draco said calmly, holding back with every bit of strength he had in him. "And trust me when I say I would make every freckle on your face light up like a Christmas Tree if given the opportunity. You're lucky I have this restraining me." The young man pushed up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo of a skull and snake on his left forearm. It was the Dark Mark. He lowered his wand, despite every urge telling him not to. "Tell you what, Weasley. I'll keep my end of the bargain, but only because I want to see the look on your face when you realize Granger would rather shag me, her tormentor for the past six years, over you. Now sod off."

**A/N: Reviews are appreciated! Also, if anyone is interested in beta-ing (lol) this story, let me know. **

**Cheers**

**xo.**

**P.S. Don't worry. Hermione still has some tricks up her sleeve. After all, the title of this story is "Two Can Play". **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Chapter six! **

Hermione plopped into the nearest booth, waiting for her friends at _Three Broomsticks_. It was the second Hogsmeade weekend of the term, and her first visit. Between mid-term revision and Head Girl duties, she had minimal leisure time. In fact, the only reason she agreed to meet her friends at the pub, was down to Headmistress McGonagall's own recommendation that she take some time to relax. She supposed it was sound advice. Her teenaged years couldn't _just _be filled with endless revision and dangerous, life or death situations.

A bit of fun was in order.

"Is this seat taken?"

The brunette turned and found Blaise Zabini. "Probably not for another hour," she shrugged, motioning for him to have a seat. "That's how long it takes for Harry and Ron to browse the inventory at Honeyduke's."

Blaise accepted the invitation and sat across. Like her, he was dressed in his school uniform as opposed to casual, weekend clothes. Either he was so wrapped up in preparing for mid-terms that he forgot it was the weekend, or he shared her preference for the uniform.

"I thought you and Weasley were on the outs."

Hermione glanced at him. It took her a moment to realize what he'd said. "Oh — right," she voiced. "We are, and we aren't. Depends on his mood, really."

"Match made in heaven," he teased, sipping from his butterbeer.

She smiled a little, nodding. It seemed her personal affairs were the subject of gossip within Hogwarts. Everyone, including the faculty, knew she and Ron had less than amicably parted ways. For that reason, she kept to herself during recent weeks; speaking only to Ginny and Harry, and on occasion, Neville. There was no need to fuel the fire. _Give it another day and they'll be talking about something else, _she told herself, repeatedly.

Being the centre of attention was never her cup of tea.

She much preferred the background.

But after everything that transpired within the last few weeks, _the background _was a faraway fantasyland that was permanently out of reach. If the gossip didn't involve her breakup with Ron, it certainly involved the young man around the corner.

"Don't worry," Blaise assured her, following her furtive looks. "Draco won't be bothering you this weekend; at least not today. He's on a date with Astoria."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Astoria Greengrass?"

"Yeah, I don't understand it either," he shrugged. "One of the younger prefects caught them fooling around in the corridors last night."

"That's…strange," the Head Girl reasoned. "I always thought he and Pansy were an item."

Blaise choked on his butterbeer, spraying a little whilst suppressing his laughter. "Not in this lifetime. Draco can't stand her."

Hermione thought to further this line of conversation, but her attention was eclipsed the very second Astoria entered _Three Broomsticks_ and skirted towards Malfoy's table. Based on the girl's attire, which consisted of an expensive-looking bell coat, heavy makeup, and what looked like a dress that wasn't made for winter, she had _definitely_ dressed for a date.

In a matter of seconds, Astoria was on his lap, twisting her hair and sharing his butterbeer, with one straw between the both of them. Now and then, he would whisper something into her ear, causing her to blush and admonish him with a playful swat.

"So," Blaise interjected, tearing her attention from the new couple. "Have you been asked to the Winter Formal?"

Hermione blanked. "Oh — erm. No. I've decided to go alone," she explained. "Doesn't make sense to bore anyone with chaperone duties."

"What about me?" he asked, nonchalant without being indifferent.

She looked to him, perplexed. "You don't have a date?"

Blaise confirmed with a single nod. "Seeing as I'm Head Boy and you're Head Girl, I figured it would be fun to chaperone together. Unless you'd rather not. In which case, no offence taken."

"Er —" Hermione paused. "No, that — that sounds like a fine idea."

"Yeah?"

She nodded, drinking from her butterbeer and dabbing her lips with a napkin. "Just don't expect me to use that damned Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. It took _hours _for the potion to settle, when I used it for the Yule Ball in fourth year."

Blaise chuckled at this. "Never," he assured her, smiling. "I like your hair the way it is."

* * *

><p>In the Gryffindor Common Room, Hermione divulged to Ginny, the details of what happened at <em>Three Broomsticks<em>. Her best friend had been unable to make the visit to Hogsmeade, as Professor Binns kept her in for weekend detention. It seemed he wasn't a fan of Ginny's bat bogey hex; even less so, when it was mistakenly cast in his direction.

"Wait —" the redhead broke through, taking a moment to sift through the information. It was late into the evening, which meant most students were either in the library or tucked away in their dormitories. "He did _what?_"

"He snogged Astoria Greengrass in the middle of the pub," Hermione reiterated. "Just out in the open, as though they were the only ones there!"

"No, no, no…" Ginny waved her hands between them, slowly shaking her head left to right. "I'm talking about Blaise."

"Blaise?" Hermione repeated. "Oh — he asked me to Winter Formal."

"What did you say?"

"I said yes," the brunette responded, sensing there was an important detail, about which she had no idea. "Should I have turned him down?"

Ginny tossed one look on either side of her, to make sure they weren't within earshot of the other students, before leaning closer. "Don't tell anyone you know this, but I was speaking to Daphne earlier tonight, and she mentioned having an inkling that one of her mates fancies you," the witch regaled. "She wouldn't give me names, but it _would _make an awful lot of sense for Blaise to be the one. He's the only decent bloke of the bunch."

Hermione opened her mouth, and closed it. "That's absurd."

"Is it?" Ginny furthered. "He's at least a little bit interested, if he asked you to the dance."

"He asked me as a last resort," Hermione reasoned. "Nothing more."

"Well, if it's not him, then it's Malfoy."

The brunette gaped at her best friend. "Now _that_ is absurd."

Ginny snorted with laughter. "You have to be the only girl in school, who would cringe at the notion of Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy fancying you."

"On that note," Hermione interjected, rising from her spot across the fireplace; a little earlier than planned. "_I _have patrol duties."

"Say hello to Blaise for me," the redhead winked.

Hermione rolled her eyes, smiling nonetheless. "Oh, behave."

* * *

><p>It was dim in the castle.<p>

Most staff members had retreated to their offices and sleeping quarters for the night, leaving the corridors empty and ready for the taking. Draco led Astoria through the secret passage, and into the seventh floor corridor; acutely aware that the Gryffindor Common Room was on that floor.

"Are you sure this is the spot?" Astoria asked, eyeing the darkened passage.

Draco nodded, bringing her to the far end of the corridor and into a slim, unlit crevice. There was a narrow stream of moonlight coming in through one of the stained-glass windows, but other than that, the corridor was veiled in shadows. With his wand extended, providing extra light during their journey from the dungeons to the seventh floor, he quickly extinguished the light and pocketed the item, before facing the Slytherin girl.

It took a moment for him to do it, but he eventually listened to the voice in his head and took her hands in his, leaning towards the raven-haired witch, as she flattened her back against the stone-textured wall.

Seconds later, his hands were on her body, and hers, around his neck.

Astoria moaned against his lips, when he kissed her. It wasn't terribly loud, but loud enough that anyone within eyesight could have heard. Draco kissed her harder then, using a quick maneuver of his tongue to part the gap between her lips. Much to his frustration, she made a point to wear the same lavender perfume from the previous night.

Something about floral scents reminded him of his grandmother, which wasn't the best train of thought, whilst kissing the crimson off of Astoria Greengrass' lips and using both hands to knead her perfectly round breasts.

"_Gods_," she panted, tilting to her head to the side, as he kissed down the curve of her neck. "If I didn't know any better, I'd be foolish enough to think you're actually into this."

Draco took her hands by the wrists and pinned them to the stone-textured wall, inspiring a delighted whimper from the girl. "Don't be silly," he said to her, speaking in a low tones. "Of course I'm into this. We're an item, _remember_?"

Unable to speak, Astoria nodded; overcome with the sensation his lips provided.

Again, she moaned, causing Draco's inner snake to hiss with approval. He repeated certain moves now and then, focusing on the bits that garnered the loudest, most guttural reaction from the witch.

* * *

><p>It was worse than she imagined.<p>

Hermione clapped both hands over her mouth, to keep from gasping out loud, and ducked behind one of the hanging tapestries. She couldn't believe it. There he was, snogging the daylights out of Astoria Greengrass, in the middle of the seventh floor corridor, where any number of people could have walked in on them. She swallowed hard, unable to move despite every fibre in her being urging her to move forth and dock points off Slytherin. There was no reason to feel so flustered. In the few years she had spent as prefect, and then as Head Girl, she had caught more than a few couples messing about after hours. It wasn't unheard of.

Catching the bane of her existence with his mouth on some random girl, however, was something else entirely.

She took a moment, closing her eyes and levelling her thoughts, reminding herself of what Malfoy had done to Chris. It wasn't only her duty as Head Girl to break the snog session and dock points from House Slytherin. It was her duty as a good, kindhearted person. She nodded once, breathing in and breathing out, before slipping out from behind the hanging tapestry.

"Freeze right there!"

* * *

><p>Draco smiled against Astoria's neck, feeling the witch tense up. She swatted him once, on the shoulder, alerting him of the other person in the corridor. Doing his absolute best to hide the laughter that tickled his lips, he straightened, in rhythm with Astoria as she fixed her hair and the ruffled look about her clothes. There, about twenty paces from the unlit crevice, stood the Head Girl.<p>

Granger cleared her throat, maintaining her strict, solid stance. "Fraternizing after hours is _strictly _against the rules," she said to them, voice higher than he remembered. "That's fifty points from Slytherin — each."

Beside him, Astoria rolled her eyes. "Oh, learn to live a little."

"Make that seventy," Granger corrected, snapping one, sharp look at the Slytherin girl.

Astoria snorted with laughter. "Boo hoo," she scoffed. "Come on, Draco. We'll continue in the dungeons."

Seconds later, both young women fixed their attention on him. It took him a solid moment to realize he hadn't spoken a word.

"I'll meet you there," he then said, delivering a swift kiss to Astoria's lips. "Don't wait up."

Granger stared between them, an odd amount of disgust tugging at her facial features, as the raven-haired Slytherin skirted past her and out of the seventh floor corridor.

Once the sound of his girlfriend's footsteps sounded out, Draco shifted his attention to the Head Girl. She cleared her throat, again, with both arms folded over her chest. Judging by what Weasel told him a couple nights back, about her and Krum, he knew for a fact she wasn't as much of a prude as she let on; so, her uncomfortable attitude toward the scene in the corridor had to be the result of something else.

"Best not to keep your girlfriend waiting," Granger said to him, speaking with cool indifference.

Draco narrowed his eyes, studying her.

For a moment, he thought to retort with something clever and biting, but he decided against that. Whether he liked it or not, there was a plan in motion. It started out as Weasel's pathetic attempt at revenge, over something that didn't involve him in any respect, and grew to exponential heights. Draco knew he couldn't mess things up. It was too late to back out — not that he wanted to. Bearing that, he fixed his shirt collar and ran one hand through his fringe, before following in Astoria's footsteps and brushing past Granger on his way out.

_Merlin_, he though to himself, smiling as her cheeks turned scarlet. _It's like hanging fish in a barrel — or whatever that damned Muggle saying is._


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Chapter Seven! **

It was mid-morning the following Sunday, and Hermione was exhausted. She couldn't sleep, and as fate would have it, Headmistress McGonagall had taken it upon herself to owl in an impromptu meeting concerning earlier curfews for the older students, and doubling up on patrol shifts for the prefects. It seemed more and more of the student body were staying out past curfew, and for that reason, the Headmistress was on high alert. Understandable, considering the Head Girl had reported an earlier infraction the previous night.

Either way, she nodded her head with the other prefects and trudged straight to the Quidditch Pitch, once everything was said and done.

Unless she was mistaken, Harry scheduled an early practice for Team Gryffindor that same morning. If she couldn't sleep, she figured it wiser to catch some much needed fresh air, as opposed to barricade herself behind a mountain of books in the library — _again_.

Now seated in the Gryffindor Quidditch stands, she watched her friends do some warm ups around the Pitch. Around three minutes in, when the team started to toss the Quaffle about and take individual shots on the Keeper, Hermione felt her eyelids begin to droop. It was brisk outside, which should have kept her alert, but her hectic schedule was finally beginning to weigh down on her. As it turned out, she _wasn't_ superhuman, and _couldn't_ function day-to-day on less than four hours rest.

* * *

><p>Draco sauntered into Professor Slughorn's office, leaning against one of the desks whilst the old man paced the room. Most weekends, the younger wizard slept in until mid-day, but that morning, the bumbling Potions Master owled him in for a mandatory meeting concerning his probation.<p>

Since the war had ended, the Malfoy's were pardoned for their crimes against the innocent people of Great Britain, but that didn't mean they were released with no consequences. His parents were forced to 'donate' an enormous sum of money to relief charities _and _volunteer their time for community service, which left him to sit through several hearings with the Board of Education before he was allowed to continue his studies. Granted, he was still on probation and had to maintain at least an _S _for _Satisfactory _in every course, to keep his spot in Hogwarts, but it was more of a formality than anything. Plus, his grades were never an issue.

"I'm afraid I have bad news," the Potions Master started, worried lines across his enormous forehead. "Headmistress McGonagall was kind enough to inform me of _not one, but_ _two_ recent infractions concerning the terms of your probation."

Draco shifted his attention from the ceiling to the older wizard; alarmed. "What? I've done nothing wrong," he put forth, straightening his posture. "I'm second in my year, with an _Exceeds Expectations _in every course, except for Potions, in which you've granted me an _Outstanding_. I've arrived on time, if not ten minutes early, to every lesson since the start-of-term. I've never missed a single day of class. I make daily visits to the Owlery to help the caretaker feed and groom the creatures, as part of the terms laid out for me, and I've —"

"_Enough_," Slughorn interjected, holding one hand in the air to silence him. It was on rare occasion that the man addressed anyone with anything less than airy enthusiasm. For a moment, he held the silence and simply massaged his temples. It took another several seconds before he voiced another word, and when he did, he regarded his student with unfounded sternness. "Fraternization," he uttered. "It appears a credible source has reported you to Headmistress McGonagall, with claims that you've been out past curfew alongside Miss Greengrass. No once, but twice. Tell me, Mr. Malfoy. Is there any semblance of truth to these claims?"

Draco opened his mouth and closed it; unable to think, let alone speak. It was all true, of course. His recent transgressions against school rules were no fabrication. But there wasn't a single word in the terms of his probation, that stated he wasn't allowed to snog his girlfriend. Astoria consented wholly, which proved he hadn't placed one of his fellow students in a dangerous and/or compromising situation against his/her will. As for being out past curfew, only an overzealous, uniquely vindictive breed of prefect would report him for something like that.

From what he knew, there were only two instances in which he'd been caught out after hours. The first had been a couple nights ago, near the Hospital Wing. One of the younger Slytherin prefects, called James something or other, caught him then, but he doubted the fifth year would utter a word against his name. Most of the younger students steered clear of him; due to his past affiliations and because his family still held power in the pureblood community. Because of that, he had it on good authority that James (or was it Jason?) would never have reported him for something as minor as snogging his girlfriend after hours.

"_Granger_," he muttered, grinding his teeth.

Slughorn looked to him. "Now, now, Mr. Malfoy. It doesn't matter who reported you. All that matters —"

"Is that it?" Draco cut in, forcing down the tension in his throat. "Am I expelled?"

"Certainly _not_," Slughorn said to him, brushing the notion aside. "If anything, the Headmistress will need written and verbal testimonial from Miss Greengrass, in order to prove she was a willing participant."

Draco's face screwed. "Wait —" he blurted, sparing one moment to comprehend. "I'm being evaluated for — for assault?"

Slughorn cleared his throat, facing the opposite wall to hide the purplish hue of his face. It was obvious the word made him uncomfortable. "Not entirely."

"What does that mean?" the student demanded; outraged. "Because I was forced to become a Death Eater at age sixteen, the school administration believe I'm the type to force myself someone?"

"The details are, unfortunately, not within my jurisdiction."

"But Astoria has to prove I didn't assault her," he voiced, seething with unfound hatred. "which means McGonagall has reason to believe I did. That's absurd!"

Slughorn inhaled, sharply. "Lower your voice, Mr. Malfoy. I'm _trying_ to help you."

Draco breathed in and out, balling his hands into fists and then relaxing them. It was absolute bollocks that Astoria had to prove she consented. Never in his life, had he been intimate with anyone without their full, unwavering consent. In fact, the mere notion of it made him sick. If there were one thing he knew for certain, it's that he was no longer alone in this ploy of wits and manipulation — and that Granger wasn't half as diffident as she let on.

_Bitch. _

* * *

><p>Hermione's eyes fluttered open about an hour later.<p>

Within that time, the temperature had dropped. She yawned with her arms outstretched, causing translucent clouds to escape her lips with each breath. It seemed practice was over, as the Quidditch Pitch was clear, but the stands were not. Hermione sluggishly fixed her attention to the left, from where the shadow of another person came into view.

"Hey —" Blaise quickly inserted. "Sorry for creeping up on you like this, but Harry and Ginny are looking for you. I told them I'd search outside."

"What time is it?" the Head Girl asked, rubbing the fatigue from her eyes.

Blaise offered her view of his wristwatch. "Half-noon."

Hermione leaned back a moment, still tired.

"You must be freezing," he furthered, studying the colour of her lips; a distinct pinkish-blue. "Here. I'll walk you back."

She absently took the hand he provided and walked with him, through the Gryffindor stands, and to the Castle. It wasn't unheard of, for Blaise Zabini to be kind to his fellow classmates, pureblood or not, but the manner in which he escorted her and draped his Slytherin cloak over her shoulders, left a curious feeling in her chest.

Perhaps Ginny was onto something, with regards to the information Daphne had disclosed to her the previous day.

Blaise had always been exceptionally kind towards Hermione. Never once had it occurred to her that his behaviour could be the product of repressed feelings, but she supposed it wasn't terribly far fetched.

According to the grapevine, his last girlfriend had been a Muggle-born. Someone from Beauxbatons Academy.

Hermione dwelled on those thoughts, shooting furtive looks at him, as he walked with her to the Castle. It was significantly colder than when she left the meeting; so much that she was beginning to feel some soreness in her throat. _Brilliant. Just in time for exams. _

"So," Blaise started. "What were you doing in the Quidditch stands?"

"Erm, watching practice," she explained. "I suppose my friends didn't see me."

"I'm sure they're practicing extra hard for the next match," he offered, sensing her embarrassment. "Anyway, are you looking forward to Winter Formal?"

Hermione paused a moment, as though she'd forgotten. "Oh — yeah, absolutely."

Blaise shot her a quick wink. "Don't worry. It'll be fun. We'll listen to some music, lecture some fifth years, and dance the night away."

"Can't wait," she put forth, smiling.

Another five minutes later, and the enormous double doors were in sight. There were some whispers here and there, as random students passed by, catching sight of Hermione Granger and Blaise Zabini, from rival Houses, chatting and walking together with surprising ease. It was only a matter of time before the rumour mills started turning. She could only imagine the chaos that would ensue, once people saw them together at the dance.

"Shit —"

Hermione glanced to him, perplexed. "Something wrong?"

Blaise motioned to the double doors, from where another Slytherin male came marching towards them. "I'm thinking someone found out you reported him to the Headmistress."

She followed his line of vision, and found none other than Malfoy. _Of course, _the brunette grimaced. _Just what I need._

"I'll talk to him," the Head Boy offered, looking to her. "Maybe knock some sense into that head of his."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "No," she decided. "I know how to handle a ferret."

Seconds later, and the scattered group of students outside had cleared a path for Malfoy. It was like Moses parting the Red Sea. Only, Ferret Boy wasn't a religious leader. Just a bully.

"_You_," he seethed, looking directly at her. "I'd like a word." A dozen or so students collected around them, whispering. "In private," he added.

Blaise stared between them. "Maybe we should —"

"Lead the way," Hermione interjected, arms folded.

* * *

><p>Inside the castle, where the other students wouldn't think to follow them, Draco led Granger into one of the secret tunnels. It wasn't the ideal setting, but it did, at the very least, provide some semblance of privacy. Merlin knew he didn't want the school to hear what Slughorn had disclosed to him, and what Granger had apparently disclosed to the Headmistress. His reputation was bad enough. The last thing he needed was another reason to be judged.<p>

Deep in the tunnel, with only their wands for light, the teenagers came to a gradual halt, and stood face-to-face. It was dark, but Draco could see the ridicule in Granger's eyes.

"I'm only going to ask this once," he said to her. "Do you honestly think I'm the type of bloke that would sexually assault someone, or was that simply an attempt to get back at me?"

For a moment, her expression wavered. "What are you — How —"

"Don't play dumb. I know one of the prefects reported me to McGonagall earlier this morning, and it sure as hell wasn't Jason."

"James," she corrected. " — and you're right. It was me."

"So?" he furthered. "Answer the question. Did it look to you like I assaulted her, or not?"

Granger matched his stance. "It looked to me like you had her pinned to the wall, with your tongue down her windpipe and little to no room between the two of you."

"It's called passion," he smirked. " — and as frustrated as I am that you would accuse me of a crime as heinous as sexual assault, your failure to recognize a heated kiss doesn't surprise me in the slightest."

She rolled her eyes, ignoring the latter end. "I accused you of no such thing."

"What are you talking about?"

"Listen carefully," Granger enunciated, as though she were addressing a toddler. "All I said to McGonagall, was that I caught you kissing Astoria Greengrass in the middle of the night. I never once accused you of sexual assault. I did, however, describe the scene, as I was asked. If the Headmistress interpreted your 'heated kiss' as viable sexual assault, then that's her prerogative. As an administrator of education and our caretaker at Hogwarts School, she is well within her rights to investigate."

Draco opened his mouth.

"In any case, the only person to blame in this situation is you," she furthered. "_You_ breached the terms of your probation. Not me. Not the Headmistress. _You_. So, before you go dragging me into dark, dingy tunnels, with the sole purpose of interrogating me where there are no witnesses — take a moment to consider the facts." With that, the Head Girl breathed in and out, sucking in what little oxygen she could. "Oh, and, when I finally _do_ decide to get back at you — you'll know it. Just happens I can't be arsed to do that at the moment, as I have exams to worry about and an entire future to plan. Though, your failure to recognize raw ambition doesn't surprise me in the slightest."

His eyebrows shot up. "Well, then."

"If you'll excuse me," Granger muttered, pushing past him.

Her footsteps echoed.

"You're going the wrong way," Draco called out, lazily.

"Don't care," she hollered back. "The farther I am from you, the better."

**A/N: Thanks! Make sure to tell me what you think. Your reviews make this story possible! :) **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Chapter Eight! **

By the end of the week, Winter Formal was all anyone could talk about. It was the first school dance since the Yule Ball, and although the student body was buzzing with excitement, there were strict rules in place.

Under no circumstances would prolonged kissing and/or inappropriate touching be permitted during the dance, or otherwise. Students were also required to keep at least six inches between them at all times. On the dance floor or not. It wasn't unreasonable, at least not to Hermione, but the other students seemed outraged. Particularly, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil; both of whom had arranged their older boyfriends to attend the dance under visitor status.

Hermione found it strange that anyone older than eighteen would attend a dance meant for Hogwarts students — but that was none of her business.

She quietly dressed in the girls dormitory, alongside Ginny, and did as best as she could to control her mane of hair. Unlike the Yule Ball, the Winter Formal wasn't so much an international affair, as it was an excuse for the older students to relax and take a break from their endless workload — if only for a night.

"_My goodness_," Ginny voiced, scanning her head to toe. "Five Galleons says Blaise kisses you by the end of the night."

Hermione opened her mouth with surprise — caught between that, and a flutter of laughter. "_Ginny. _He barely knows me."

"Bollocks. These days you spend more time with him, than you do anyone else," the redhead teased. "Plus, you're well overdue for a good snog."

"You do know it's only been a few weeks since _your brother_ dumped me."

"_My brother_ is a twat," Ginny decided, applying a second coat of mascara.

Hermione couldn't argue that.

Instead, she clasped her curls together with an embellished hair pin. It was time to head down and meet their dates. Ginny, of course, had been asked to the dance by Harry. Most people knew the couple were in it for the long haul, but that didn't stop their respective admirers from hoping. It was only the previous week that Michael Corner (Ginny's ex-boyfriend) took it upon himself to provide the girl with a list of reasons as to why they should give it another ago. His persistence had been the reason Ginny resorted to her trusted bat bogey hex; the same one that earned her weekend detention.

Harry, on the other hand, had managed to turn down his admirers without magic and instead, with the same charm that drew them to him in the first place. As the war was over, most young women took this as reason to pursue him even harder, thinking he needed some much needed _release_. But, as far as Hermione knew, he found his _release _every other night; either in the Restricted Section of the library or on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest.

Needless to say, her friends were in love.

Not long ago, she, too, had been sneaking off with her boyfriend and snogging the daylights out of him. But those days were long gone. Ron could barely look at her, without Harry or Ginny there to diffuse the tension. There was no chance he would ever give their relationship another go; not that she desired as much. She just found it upsetting to think they had ended things on such a horrible note.

Part of her wondered if he had a date for the evening. Lavender was taken, which scratched that possibility. There was always Padma, but Hermione was sure the Ravenclaw girl had learned her lesson where Ronald Weasley and school dances were concerned.

Nonetheless, there was an evening of fun to be had, and she would be damned if she wasted another night worrying about Ron.

* * *

><p>Draco stood on the sidelines, as Astoria went to greet some of her girlfriends on the other side of the Great Hall. It seemed the dance committee had taken a minimalist approach where the decoration was concerned; either that, or the budget had been cut in quarters. It was no matter to him, as he didn't plan on staying there for very long. Merlin knew, the faculty were going to keep an extra special eye on him that evening.<p>

Astoria had, of course, vouched for him with regards to the assault debacle, but her efforts did little to slow the nerves in his gut.

His education was hanging by a thread. If he didn't graduate from Hogwarts with flying colours, there was no chance in hell any employer would so much as entertain the possibility of hiring him. The public knew of his former affiliation, and although he and his family were pardoned as per court of law, their overall innocence was still the subject of great debate.

"Shall we?" Astoria asked, finding him near the drinks table.

In all honesty, he wasn't in the mood for dancing, but he had no choice.

Draco offered his arm, and took her to the centre of the dance floor, where an amalgamation of whispers and open-mouthed stares were directed at them, and then, to the doors leading into the Great Hall.

In the background, there was an unfamiliar song playing, offsetting the nerves in his gut with something close to wonderment, as he followed the open-mouthed stares and laid eyes on her.

_We've waited so damn long, we're sick and tired_

_I won't leave any doubt or stone unturned_

_I've got a collar full of chemistry from your company_

_So maybe tonight I'll be the libertine_

_Show me your love, your love_

_Gimme more but it's not enough_

_Show me your love, your love_

_Before the world catches up_

_'Cause there's always time for second guesses, I don't wanna know_

_If you're gonna be the death of me, that's how I wanna go_

_You've got it all worked out with so little time_

_Memories that I'd blackout if you were mine_

_You've got a pocket full of reasons why you're here tonight_

_So, baby, tonight just be the death of me_

The young wizard tensed, acutely aware of the heat that dashed across his chest.

* * *

><p>It was nothing compared to the Yule Ball, but there were definitely some glances thrown in her direction. She draped her arm over Blaise's, and followed him into the Great Hall. The turn out was decent. It appeared most of their classmates had opted to attend the dance, which settled the nervousness in her chest. She, and the rest of the dance committee had spent countless hours planning to make sure the function ran nice and smoothly. It was nice to know their efforts had not gone unappreciated.<p>

Funding was, of course, an ongoing issue, but Hermione always had a knack for working around budgetary issues. It helped that Blaise had called in their deejay on a favour, which left only decorations and refreshments for her to sort out.

"Drinks?" Blaise asked, leading her into the Great Hall; the tables in which had been cleared out to make room for the dance floor.

Hermione nodded, releasing his arm with a smile. Something flitted in her chest, as he glanced back, shooting her a quick wink. _Pull yourself together, Granger. He's just a boy. _Having to remind herself of that over and over again, until he returned with a couple drinks in hand, she hoped the dim lighting hid the colour on her cheeks.

Somewhere across the venue, she noticed Ginny, alongside Harry. The redhead shot her an inconspicuously conspicuous thumbs up. Hermione's face blanched and she looked quickly to Blaise, to see if he'd noticed, but his eyes were planted firmly on the pendant that rested along the centre of her clavicle. It was a silvery, heart-shaped pendant.

"Did someone special give that to you?" he asked, making conversation with her, as they hung back and chaperoned.

Hermione nodded. "For my birthday."

"Boyfriend?"

"Oh — no," she inserted, soon realizing what he meant by _someone special_. "It was a gift from my nan."

Blaise responded to this with something close to relief. She couldn't be certain. It was difficult to get a good read on him, as he was always so calm and composed.

Moments later, he set aside their drinks and held his arm out. She took it, moving with him to the dance floor. There were eyes on them, following them with each step they took. She could feel it all around her, but especially from behind; near the other side of the venue. Hermione thought to glance back and have a look for herself, but her efforts came to no avail, as a group of fifth years blocked her line of vision.

"I'm going to warn you," Blaise interjected, without meaning to. "I'm afraid, in my case, the stereotype is _not _true."

Hermione looked to him, perplexed. "What do you mean?"

He tossed one look around, before leaning close and whispering something into her ear. "I'm a terrible dancer."

She snorted with laughter. "Oh, dear."

"Seriously," he chuckled. "Go on and ask Tracey Davis. It's been three years, and she's _still_ recovering from the amount of times I stepped on her feet during the Yule Ball."

Hermione tried hard to hold back. "Well, thanks for the warning," she offered, an easy camaraderie forming between them, as she draped her arms loosely over his shoulders, and his, along her upper waist. "But you're doing just fine."

"You're too kind," Blaise smiled. " — and I'm not sure I've told you enough times, but you look exceptionally nice tonight."

Thankfully, the blusher she was wearing, managed to hide the actual blush that coloured her cheeks. Finally, she understood the purpose of makeup.

"Here's to hoping there are no mishaps tonight," he furthered, with regards to the students over whom they were tasked to keep a watchful eye.

If Hermione didn't know any better, she would think their 'date' wasn't so much a cordial, friendly arrangement between equals, as it was an actual date. Again, she couldn't get a good read on Blaise. There was something about him — the ease in which he adapted to any social situations, perhaps — that set him apart from the other boys at school. His confidence was sexy. Though, not nearly as much as the glint in his eyes, whenever he looked at her.

She had to repeatedly remind herself, that he was Slytherin.

But the green and silver didn't paint him in a horrible light, like it did Malfoy and Pansy. In fact, on Blaise, those colours only added to his sex appeal.

Around eight songs later, when she was sure her makeup was beginning to run, the brunette excused herself to the ladies' room. She hoped — prayed, really — that her best friend Ginny would there. If there was one thing the redhead knew more about than Quidditch and how to deal with a houseful of testosterone, it was how to read boys, and Hermione needed some advice — **_quick_**.

_Go ahead and look at me_

_'Cause that's what I want_

_Take a good look; won't you please_

_'Cause that's what I want_

_I know you wanna stare_

_You can't help it, and I don't care_

_So look at me_

_'Cause that's what I want_

_Do you think I'm looking hot?_

_Do you think this hits the spot?_

_How is this looking on me, looking on me?_

She weaved through the dance floor, acutely aware of the eyes that followed her.

* * *

><p>"So, what's the plan?"<p>

Draco fixed his attention on Astoria. It was nearing the end of the evening and he had yet to make his play. Time was running out. More than that, his patience was wearing thin. His original plan had been derailed, the moment he found out one of his best mates had asked Granger to the formal. There wasn't much he could do to further his scheme, when she was laughing and dancing and having an all around _swell time _with another man.

Needless to say, Blaise had his own plans for the evening, which left Draco in a rather compromising position.

Astoria followed his quick glances, and rolled her eyes. "Green doesn't suit you as well as it should, for someone sorted into Slytherin."

He tossed her a knowing look. "Back at you."

"Dream on," she scoffed. "By the way, you owe me for the testimonial."

"And here I thought you helped me out of the goodness of your heart," he teased, dancing with her somewhere in the middle, where the staff couldn't see them.

Astoria returned his teasing looks, whilst maintaining her cool, relaxed attitude. If there were one person in the world, with his exact personality — it was her. She may have been younger, but she certainly knew him. Better than his parents, most times.

"Don't let the pretty lipstick fool you," she winked. "I'm still a cold-hearted bitch."

Draco brushed the latter end of her statement aside. "Feisty, on your worst day."

Astoria smiled. Just enough for him to know. "Oh, and, in case you're wondering, I had no idea Blaise asked her to the formal. I don't think anyone did."

"Why would that matter to me?"

"Draco," she simply said, tossing him another one of those knowing looks. "Don't pretend like the sight of them together, hasn't lodged itself in your periphery like a massive, uncontrollable thorn."

"I'm not sure what you're implying but —"

"Think about it," Astoria interjected, motioning to the couple with nothing but a subtle tilt of her head. "Do you honestly think _that _would have happened, had it not been for you?"

Draco opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.

"Blaise didn't pay her an ounce of attention until a couple weeks ago. Around the time you decided to come down on her with your full arsenal. More than that, our little Gryffindor would never have considered a bloke from Slytherin, had it not been for her subconscious need to justify her attraction towards _you_."

"Now I know you're mental," he reasoned, laughing a little. "This may come to shock you, but I'm quite sure Granger _isn't _attracted to me. Not yet, anyway. At the moment, she can barely stand to be around me."

Astoria rolled her eyes at him, again. "That's just it," his date reasoned. "She can't stand to be around you _because _she's attracted to you. Now, that's not to say she's in love with you or wants to have you children. If I had to guess, I'd say it's more of a repressed, underlying itch that she _just can't scratch_. Not without the big, bad Draco Malfoy. Though, our dear friend Blaise looks as though he'll give it a go, anyway."

Draco arched his eyebrow. "You've given this a lot of thought."

"I'm thorough," she reasoned. "Plus, I sensed a bit of jealousy from her, when she caught us snogging the other night."

"Did you?"

Astoria nodded. "Definitely. I mean, it was hidden beneath thick, obtrusive layers of disgust and disapproval — but it was definitely there."

Her words resounded long after, but Draco couldn't wholly abide by them. As much as he trusted Astoria's judgment, she hadn't been there to witness his and Granger's little spat in the tunnel. The Head Girl made it quite clear, that she not only couldn't stand him, but, also, that she couldn't be arsed to get back at him. It was worse than distaste. It was disinterest.

_She reminds me of the one in school_

_When I was gutted, she was dressed in white_

_And I couldn't take my eyes off her_

_But that's not what I took off that night_

_She'll never cover up what we did with her dress_

_No_

_She said, "Kiss me, it'll heal, but it won't forget."_

_"Kiss me, it'll heal, but it won't forget."_

_I don't mind you keeping me on pins and needles_

_If I could stick to you and you stick me, too_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Two Hours Later<em>**

Most of the students had cleared out, by the time the last song played. Hermione figured her classmates disappeared to continue the festivities at an after party, or to make out somewhere in the castle. She didn't dwell on it too long. She, and the rest of the dance committee were too busy cleaning up. It was part of the promise they made to Headmistress McGonagall. They would handle everything from music to janitorial duties, so long as she allowed them an evening of fun and dancing.

Plus, the use of magic cut the time it would have taken to clean up, in half.

"Looks like everything's sorted," Blaise commented, wheeling one look around to see that the Great Hall was back in its original condition.

Hermione nodded, rising from the Gryffindor Table with her high heels in hand. It was nearing one o'clock in the morning, when the last of the dance committee left the vicinity, leaving her alone with Blaise. Luckily, he was great company, and due to the advice she had received from Ginny earlier on in the ladies room, she didn't feel half as nervous about her growing attraction towards him.

"I can't believe it's this late," he furthered, walking with her to the door. "I'm not tired at all. Are you?"

She tilted her head down, in an attempt to hide the smile that tugged at her lips. This line of conversation was not unfamiliar to her. Neither was the manner in which their shoulders brushed up together, as they walked. Hermione followed him out of the Great Hall and then, against every last shred of judgement she had maintained in her eighteen years, detoured with him to an unexpected place.

Around this time, Blaise observed her through the corner of his eye.

Before Hermione could really make sense of what was about to happen, the gears had shifted and she was standing across from him, face-to-face, immersed in the darkness of the secret tunnel. It was the same one from before, but this time was different, in that her body turned hot — with intrigue as opposed to indignation.

Something told her Blaise could sense the change in temperature.

"Did I mention how beautiful you look tonight?" he echoed, keeping his voice to a faint murmur. "Because you do, and it's nothing short of a miracle that I'm the one who gets to tell you."

Her chest fluttered.

She glanced up at him, aware that her little black dress felt more restricting with each passing second. It was dead silent in the tunnel. That, combined with their closeness, kept her bottom lip quivering with anticipation.

Hermione exhaled, closing her eyes as Blaise tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. His touch left her hanging on the edge of wits. She could practically feel the reverberation in his chest. It comforted her to know his heart was beating just as fast.

But nothing, neither the thick, smoky atmosphere, nor the rising heat between them, could have prepared her for the next moment.

He took one step closer and tilted his head down, towards hers. She could taste the sweetness of his breath, aware that the slightest move would do it. Neither of them moved a muscle, choosing instead to hover in this in-between place, until the tension between them rendered it impossible.

Blaise leaned even closer, and Hermione responded by standing on her toes. In a matter of milliseconds, his hands found hers, and their lips touched.

It was happening.

It was excruciatingly slow and left her heart hammering with ferocity, but it was finally happening. Blaise Zabini was kissing her, using his lips to prove just how right Ginny had been. But Hermione's thoughts were far from her redheaded friend. In fact, she couldn't think at all. It seemed the only thing of which she was capable, was slinging her arms around the Head Boy's neck and bracing herself as their bodies came to full contact.

Out of nowhere, their little tryst took an abrupt, heart-stopping turn, as though Hermione wasn't the only one in need of some release.

Seconds in, and Blaise separated from her, doing what he could to catch his breath, and perhaps, some semblance of clarity.

"Sorry —" he quickly apologized, embarrassed that he'd lost himself with such speed and recklessness.

Hermione stared between his eyes, hoping he could see the thirst in hers. "Don't be," she said to him. "I needed that."

It took a moment for him to realize what she'd said.

There was a raise in his brow. "Really?"

She nodded. "You have _no_ idea."

Blaise swallowed, fighting his body's natural response. "Well, damn, Granger. All you had to do was tell me, and I would have done that _years _ago."

Her lips tickled with laughter. "I suppose we could always make up for lost time."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she voiced. "Maybe…tomorrow night."

Blaise exhaled, eyes half-lidded. "I like the sound of that," he said to her, going in for another kiss, and surprised, as she leaned back.

"Tomorrow night," Hermione repeated, placing a finger over his lips. "Oh, and…don't be late, Zabini. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's tardiness."

_Oh, it's so hot, and I need some air._

_And boy, don't stop 'cause I'm halfway there_

_It's not complicated, we're just syncopated_

_We can read each other's minds._

_One love united_

_Two bodies synchronizing_

_Don't even need to touch me_

_Baby, just_

_Breathe on me, yeah, oh_

_Baby just, breathe on me_

_We don't need to touch, just_

_Breathe, oh, yeah_

* * *

><p>Somewhere along the line, he'd wandered from the Slytherin boys dormitory, to his favourite place in the entire Castle. As a youngster, he'd ventured there with his mates to scheme their takeover of the universe, but in recent years, he used the darkened passageway as a place to kick back and crack open a bottle of fire whiskey without being discovered.<p>

That night, however, his inebriated senses left him seconds from being seen.

Draco scrambled to his feet and darted around the corner, with his back against the textured wall and a bottle of fire whiskey pressed tight to his chest. He closed his eyes, attempting to block out the voices and the sensuous sounds that closely followed.

"_Tomorrow night,_" the girl said to the boy.

Tomorrow night.

**A/N: Thanks for reading this chapter. Remember to leave a review. I'd love to know what you think! **

**Song List: **

**1. "Collar Full" by Panic! At the Disco**

**2. "Looking Hot" by No Doubt**

**3. "Heart-Shaped Glasses" by Marilyn Manson**

**4. "Breathe On Me" by Britney Spears**

**Cheers**

**xo. **


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